If you're stopping by for ICLW, I wish you a warm welcome. Thanks for stopping by. I'm a bit of a wordy person (which I attribute to my French upbringing), so I'll give you a brief synopsis of my dealio. I'm a 36-year-old Canadian woman with hypothalamic amenorrhea. My husband (Mr. August) and I went through fertility treatments that failed miserably in October 2009. Since then, our beloved friend Sattva has offered to donate her eggs to help us have kids. Earlier this week, we were given the green light to go ahead with the egg donation. We are looking at January or February. If you want to read more about our story, you can check out this post.
It has been one year today since I started blogging. I'm still here! I wasn't sure I would keep it up, especially around April and May. I had not found many friends in blogland at that point and felt I was only writing to myself. That was ok. I like writing, and because it is public, writing on my blog encouraged me to organize my thoughts a little bit more than in my journal. It was a powerful first step for me to start writing publicly. I am fairly private person and I certainly hold back from talking about my sorrows, although that's largely cultural, isn't it. I didn't think anyone was reading the blog, but it felt helpful to just write. The pain of realizing I would not have children with my own eggs was engulfing me. I had trouble eating and getting through each day. I did a lot of pretending in public, but inside I felt entirely hollowed out. At some point I thought about my friend Poulet Secret who suggested to me a few years ago that I try blogging. She knows me well and thought that it would be my cup of tea. She was right. This goes on the very long list of my debt to her, this beautiful friend.
The solo season of my blog slowly turned into an interactive experience in early summer. This was great timing indeed. I was about to quit my pain in the arse job and throw myself entirely into my dissertation: a lonely endeavor indeed. And all of sudden, there you all were! I can't remember how it happened but to me, it came as a revelation. Infertility had been a most isolating journey up to then. I thank all my lucky stars that I have amazing IRL friends who, although they (thank the Lord) are not infertile, have vast capacities to sit with sorrow. They sat with me and mine beautifully. Discovering all of you out there was an added grace.
Nobody's story is exactly the same, although each is marked by so much disappointment and agony and hope. I found a mirror in each of your stories and felt inspired by your tremendous strength. I was amazed at how much most of you had endured and were still fighting for your hearts' deepest desire. After lurking for some time, I decided to risk leaving comments. And low and behold, you started leaving me some comments. I was astounded. It was nice to care about something again after being numb with pain for so long.
Where will this blog take me and where will I take it? I don't answer questions about the future, expect maybe that I'm pretty sure I'll keep flossing (that one's for you, Roccie). I know that it depends on what happens with having children. A blog about infertility is no longer useful when infertility is no longer a central aspect of one's life. I fear that a little. Not the resolution or surmounting/bypassing of infertility through whatever means, but the question of what happens to our friendships. These connections have become so important for this solitary little owl.
I wish for our continued friendships. But I would like to say that I'd give that up for the assurance that we will all bring our children home soon.
Thank you for this year, for your friendship, for reading.